The New Purpose
by Kaidon of Mdama
Summary: The stories from the point of view of various Sangheili and their journeys as members of Jul' Mdama's new Covenant. Disclaimer: I don't own Halo that belongs to 343 Industries. Reviews are greatly appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**PRIVATE QUARTERS OF KAIDON RTIKA' RELCAM, DURAL KEEP, RELCAM, HESDUROS: APRIL 15, 2553 IN THE HUMAN CALENDAR.**

Rtika leans by the windowsill, gazing at the fields below. Unngoy and Sangheili farmers are hard at work harvesting grains fields. He allows himself a 'smile.'

"The Gods have smiled upon us this season, my love. The harvest is quite bountiful," a soft voice purrs behind him as a pair of slender hands help Rtika put on his cloak. "Is that why you are such in a good mood today?"

Rtika turns around and grabs his mate's hands. "No, Thena. What puts me in this good mood is watching our clansmen. They've worked hard to get this harvest, and tonight we will eat well because of their efforts."

Dural keep was in truth one of the few keeps that has still retained its knowledge in agriculture, and far more so than many of the others on Hesduros. The Kaidon turns back to his mate and now helps her don her own cloak. "So did you come from the fields? How was it?"

Thena looks down at her ever present tablet where she recorded everything. Her slender fingers tap the screen a few times. "Very good. We could quite well feed a keep five times our size."

Just as Rtika was about to speak, a young sentry runs into their quarters, his tunic drenched in sweat. "K-Kaidon!" he gasps, taking a moment to catch his breath.

"What is the meaning of this interruption!" Rtika demands.

Thena simply stands up and strodes to her desk. She pours a glass of water and offers it to the Sangheili. "Drink this, then speak of why you are here."

The sentry accepts the glass gratefully and drinks deeply. He wipes his mandibles and stands up. "Kaidon. The Unggoy of the western fields said they saw the elders of Panon and our own State approaching with the Didact's Hand! They said they will arrive at the keep within a few hours."

Thena and Rtika share surprised looks. "Very well," The Kaidon says at last. "I will go out and meet them. Thena, would you be able to handle the preparations for them?"

Thena gives him an annoyed look, as if his question was an insult to her abilities. "Of course I can. Now go meet with the elders."

He nods at the sentry appreciatively. "Thank you warrior, now return to your post." He then embraces his mate. "Goodluck." He says, before leaving the room.

Rtika walks through the rural keep to his motor pool. As much as the Kaidon hates it, his keep has a much smaller collection of arms than others. Only a handful of Wraiths and Revenants with a dozen or so Ghosts.

A Sangheili in a cobalt minor harness is waiting to greet him. "Kaidon, you're here. I've finished preparing your Revenant."

"Excellent, Dasa. Let us go meet with them now." Rtika replies as Dasa starts to pull out of the motor pool. The vehicle sweeps through the western fields, giving the two of them a chance to admire the scenery.

"Why do you think they are coming to our keep, Dasa?" Rtika asks his aide after a while.

The minor thinks for a moment. "From what I know, the Didact's Hand has been travelling from keep to keep, looking for more followers in some new order. I heard this from the market."

Rtika lets out the Sangheili equivalent of a chuckle. Dasa always seems to always rely on information from gossip, rather than the actual spies he has. "Well then, I suppose we should be honored that he decided to grace us with his presence so quickly." He says dryly.

"It is indeed a great honor," Dasa agreed, reverently. Rtika taps a few buttons on the control panel and the plasma mortar slides back into its hatch. The last thing they wanted was to send the wrong message.

They elders transport soon comes into view. A Shadow, escorted by four Ghosts appears on the nearby hill. Dasa pulls the Revenant to a stop and the two climb out. The Shadow and her escorts stop as well a meters away from them. It's occupants climb out as well and meet us halfway.

"I am Kaidon Relcam! I welcome you to Duram Keep."Rtika announces.

"Greetings Kaidon Relcam," the Elder of Panom replies. "Do you know why we are here?"

Rtika nods. "You have come here to recruit followers for your order."

"It's far more than that, Kaidon," a new voice replies. Another Sangheili, this one in full armor steps out from the group. "I am Jul' Mdama, but you may know me as the Didact's Hand.

Rtika and Dusa fall to their knees, placing one fist on the ground while placing the other on their chests. "We are at the service of anyone sent by the Gods."

Jul glances around at the open fields. "Well, we'd best discuss business, back at your keep."

Rtika had to admit, Thena was good.

By the time they arrive at Dural all the clansmen have assembled to cheer for their arrival. "They seem excited," Jul notes, looking at the crowd.

"Like I said a while ago. We are here to serve. How many keeps have joined you, my lord?" Rtika ask.

"Several clans, most from Panon. You're the first keep we approached outside of their lands."

"Well my clan is honored that you would approach us so soon. We are at your service, though we have no ships and few arms for our warriors," he admits, lowering his head.

Jul looks disappointed, though not as upset as the Kaidon expected. "We suspected that. Fear not Kaidon, the other clans are amassing a great fleet for our forces."

Surprised by his understanding, Rtika leads them inside. "Come now, there is food prepared in the great hall."

The hall was large enough for all the visitors plus the elders of the keep to sit comfortably, and their guards to flank either side of it. The Didact's hand was allowed to sit in one end of the table to symbolize his authority while the Kaidon sits to his right. Unggoy come in carrying large trays of grain, vegetables and meat.

All the present leaders eat and laugh loudly, sharing stories of their time in the war. Finally Rtika decides to speak to Jul directly. "So if you knew we have little to offer in terms of warriors and equipment, why recruit us first?"

"We actually came here to look for another resource you have." He turns his gaze out one of the halls windows and onto the fields beyond.

He nods in understanding. "I see, but even our fields could not feed all of Hesduros."

Elder Panon nods. "We understand that. That is why we plan to assemble a coalition of agricultural keeps."

Rtika's mind quickly goes to the possibilities. A chance to turn his minor keep into the agricultural heart of the whole colony. An opportunity to give their clan power over all others. "I will join then, under one condition. That my keep is made the capital of this coalition and I am made its leader."

Jul and the other elders stop eating to stare at him in surprise. Around them, the guards bristle and several lower their hands to their weapons, though not drawing them. Yet.

"Hubris!" one elder shouts. "Who are you to make demands to the Didact's Hand!"

"Wait! I also have something to offer you if you agree to my terms!" Rtika urges, holding his hands up in hopes of calming them down. He taps his communicator and says to the speaker, "Zola, bring the package here."

A Sangheili, fully decked out in an orange combat harness emerges, escorting what to most outsiders would describe as a collection of sacks and tentacles. However, to those present this is a rare treasure.

"A Huragok," one breathes out.

Rtika allows himself a smirk. "Indeed, this is Strafes Too Far. He was originally part of my bridge crew and one of the few to survive. I will give it to the Didact's Hand in exchange for leadership of this agricultural coalition."

Jul simply scratches his lower mandibles, considering this. "And tell me, Kaidon, what will will stop me from simply killing you, burning your keep to the ground and taking the farmland and Huragok for myself?"

"Think fool, you got yourself into the mess, now get your way out," Rtika mentally scolds himself. He watches as Jul casually folds his hands, waiting for his answer. Was this some sort of test?

"Because my lord, you may be able to do that, do it with great ease in fact, but in the long run it would be most foolish. You would end up killing the countless Sangheili and Unggoy here who have much experience in running the farms. Which means you will have to divert warriors from other places in order to run them. But a warrior acting as farmer will never be a real substitute for real farmers."

The Didact's Hand parts his mandibles. Pleased. "Very well. Your terms are agreeable. I will allow you to lead these keeps."

Surprised that his plan actually worked, Rtika orders Zola to hand the Huragok over to the Elders


	2. Chapter 2

**MEETING CHAMBERS, DURAL KEEP, RELCAM, HESDUROS: APRIL 20, 2553 IN THE HUMAN CALENDAR.**

The new arrivals have arrived. Representatives from all the major agricultural keeps have been sent to meet up here.

Several of the elders and Kaidons have already been seated down on the large, multi-tiered chamber used specifically for important council meetings.

All discussions stop and all eyes turn to me as I enter. As the Kaidon of this keep it was my job to usher in the Jul. "Clan mates, elders, my fellow Kaidons, we are here today to listen to the words of the Didact's Hand."

I take my seat on the second tier of seats as Jul makes his way forward. Dasa stands beside me, acting as a guard in case some delegates get a bit too unruly. "Brothers! Today I do not come to you as a prophet, nor as commander, today I come to you as a fellow Kaidon. One who saw what our enemies can do."

"What enemies are these?" Someone speaks up.

Jul turns to face him. "Humans brothers. It's bad enough that we had to stop the war with them, but now they wish to spread their corruption on the shores of Sangheilios." He taps the holo-tank in the center of the chamber and the image of a gold armored zealot appears.

"This is Avu Med 'Telcam. A devout worshiper of the Gods, a pious Sangheili, and a skilled commander. Yet the humans corrupted him and sold him arms to his organizations for his revolt against the Arbiter."

Another voice speaks up. "But is it not good that they are helping him overthrow the Arbiter?"

Mdama laughs harshly. "Good? Open your eyes brother. The humans are like a deceitful Kaidon. They act as if though they wish to make peace with their foes, but underneath their cloak they hide a dagger to stab their foes when they are not looking. They speak off peace with the Arbiter, but provide arms for his foes to usurp him. They wish to spread their corrupt and deceitful ideals to the shores of Sangheilios. As the chosen by the Gods, it our duty to finish our holy crusade and wipe this blight from the galaxy!"

The chamber erupts in anger, Sangheili shouting and stomping their feet on the ground. Rtika joins in and roars at the top of his lungs.

Jul raises his hand for silence. "Which is why I've called you all here. An army requires food, and you're keeps are one of the few areas in this planet that have mastered the arts of agriculture. We wish for you all to form a single body that shall be responsible for feeding all of Hesduros."

Several complaints and protests are suddenly launched. To ask a warrior not to fight in battle was insulting. To ask a warrior not to fight and become a farmer was a slap in the face. The Kaidon's and elders stand up, hurling their anger to Jul.

"Seems they have forgotten to who they are speaking to." Dasa growls, reaching down to his plasma rifle in order to throw them out.

Rtika places his hand on the warrior's chest. "I'll handle this." He steps beside Jul to come to his rescue. "Brothers! My father had a saying. The greatest honor a Sangheili can achieve is by keeping his people alive. That is our strength. Others may be able to fight, to kill our foes. But we are the only ones able to be able yo provide the bread and grain our keeps need to survive."

They all nods and murmur amongst themselves. Even Jul 'Mdama nods in approval. "So, will all of you obey this task lain before you!"

The Kaidons roar in agreement.

* * *

 **PRIVATE QUARTERS OF KAIDON RTIKA' RELCAM, DURAL KEEP, RELCAM, HESDUROS: APRIL 21, 2553 IN THE HUMAN CALENDAR.**

Thena was overseeing the construction of several new storage facilities. Shadows arrive with crates filled to the brim with grain, fruit or meat. Zola stands out at the courtyard barking orders to the youngsters training.

Rtika rubs his lower mandibles thoughtfully. Dural is one of the smallest and weakest keeps now. But give it a few years and it will be a major city.

Meanwhile he's spent the past few cycles consulting the other Kaidon's of the keeps of domestic production, as they are now called. Their discussions have consisted off the best way to maximize production, where to store the crops or where else can we extend our farmland.

He concludes this meeting dismisses the other representatives. Rtika reclines himself on his throne and relaxes. This lasts only a few moments before he notices a Sangheili in cobalt blue armor.

"What is it Dasa?" Rtika growls, slightly annoyed at this interruption, and knowing full well that it would mean he'd have to get up.

"Pardon Kaidon, but the Didact's Hand requests your presence in the courtyard." Dasa says. Rtika sighs and climbs out off his throne and walks down.

The Didact's Hand was preparing to depart with Strafes, and four other Sangheili in orange and grey jumpsuits.

"You wished to see me excellency? Who are these Sangheili?"

The Didact's Hand turns to face me. "It is simply Jul Kaidon. I am not some San'Shyuum who expects to be treated like a god. As for who these Sangheili are, they are our new engineers. They will learn from Strafes in the ways of engineering."

That comment understandably surprised him. To most mainstream keeps, being an engineer was only slightly less honor-less than being a farmer. If the Didact was able to convince these people to become engineers, then he truly can work miracles.

"I commend you Jul."

"Oh, and what for?" He cocks his head to the side in curiosity.

"In a matter of months you have changed the social structure of Hesduros."

Jul chuckles in amusement, gesturing to the sight before him. "This was not done by my acts alone Kaidon. You were a great help in opening you're people's eyes."

Rtika stands up straighter, feeling his chest swell with pride. "You honor me Jul."

He pounds the Kaidon's chest. "Well, that is the reason I asked to see you. Come, let us walk." The two of them walks through the courtyard, Jul absently fiddling with an Arum he has, trying to unlock it. Rtika glances at his surroundings then closes his eyes, taking it all in.

"I heard you served in the military during the war. What position?" Jul asks finally, his gaze still firmly, locked on the arum.

Rtika wasn't sure if this was the reason he was asked here or if Jul was just making idle conversation. Regardless, he decided it's best to answer honestly. "I was a shipmaster of a destroyer." He says proudly, then letting his voice drop to a tone of sadness. "Though I lost most of my crew and my ship."

"Humans?"

"Jiralhanae" I correct him. During the invasion of the human homeworld I was deployed on the surface to help make repairs to a damaged ship. But while me, Strafes and a handful of others were away, the Jiralhanae stole the ship under Truth's orders."

Jul hisses. "Traitorous slime. That is the kind of corruption that I wish to eliminate in this new order. I need strong officers at my side. Which is why I am here to request that you serve in my command."

Rtika gapes, his eyes wide. Finally he regains his composure and bows. "This is an important decision Jul. Allow me some time to ponder over this."

"Of course Kaidon. Now I must be off." With that, he climbs onto the transport along with Strafes and the engineers and drives off.

Rtika sits on his throne, his head leaning on one arm as he thinks over what to do. He sighs and gets up from his seat, pacing the floor.

"What has gotten you in such deep thought my mate?" A silky voice coos softly.

"Ahhh, my mate. You're voice always calms down the sea in my heart." Rtika smiles with a hint of poetry in his response. "I have been offered a new position in Jul's new order."

Thena looks up. "Oh? What would that be?"

"A command in his army. To serve as one of his officers."

She falls silent for a long moment. "Oh, I see."

I gaze deeply into her eyes, though her face appears undecided of what to feel, her eyes are full of sadness.

"I do not have to go." I suggest. "It was just an offer, I'm sure the Didact's Hand will understand should I refuse."

"No!" She cries immediately. "This is your chance to see the Gods themselves. To walk the Journey at their side. I would be the most selfish mate if I were to deny you something like that. Besides, by the looks of it, Jul will need all the experienced warriors he can get."

Smiling at her, I look up. "They say the Great Journey waits for no one, but I shall remain at the gates of paradise until you arrive."

Thena embraces him. "The Didact's Hand is fortunate to get great warriors like you. Now go. I doubt the Gods will be pleased if you keep them waiting."

* * *

 **OUTSIDE OF PANOM KEEP, STATE OF PANOM, , HESDUROS: APRIL 15, 2553 IN THE HUMAN CALENDAR.**

Four months. That's how long it took for the Didact's Hand to bring together all of Hesduros together.

It was done with a combination of long hours of negotiation, much bartering, and if necessary, the threat of armed conflict. But now we are one nation thanks to Jul 'Mdama.

Jul is watching on one of the balconies of Panam keep. Assembled before him outside the keep, is the army he's gathered. Thousands of Sangheili warrior ranging from enthusiastic youngsters to crafty old veterans. Aside from them, there are countless Unggoy squealing in anticipation and even a few Mgalekgolo. Alongside them are their families, people of Panom, or Sangheili who simply wanted to see the celebration. While not the holy army Rtika had in mind, in a few years it could be the one of the most powerful forces outside of the original Covenant.

He was less impressed however, with the rest of the fleet.

The 'great' armada we pooled together consisted only of a single RCS-Class Armored Cruiser, a DDS-Class Carrier, two CPV-Class Heavy Destroyers, four CAR-Class frigates and three SDV-Class Heavy Corvettes.

"Brothers!" Jul shouts, spreading his arms out in a gesture of welcome. "Barely a year ago we were bound to the Prophets, used us their personal army. They used our faith to blinds us, to leave us weak and unable to survive on our own."

The warrior roar, shouting curses and slurs towards the San'Shyuum.

"But!" Jul continues. "Unlike the Jiralhanae or the Kig-yar, it is not too late for our civilization. We may still rise again, to be more powerful than we were before. This time Hesduros will not be some colony on the side, but in the center of this all.l

The crowd falls silent, though one can easily feel the national pride swelling amongst the peoples ranks.

"Today I will take these warriors to other world, to build our army, gather allies. This gathering was to give these warriors a proper send off, pray for their souls now. For in a few years they will be walking amongst the Gods!"

Jul turns back inside as the crowd roars. "Mdama! Hesduros! Journey!" The ground thunders underneath their feet as of the world itself has come to join the cheering. The carrier descends and lowers its ramp for the warriors to begin marching onboard.

Rtika salutes to Jul as he enters the room. "What are your orders commander?"

He activates the holo tank which reveals the fleet above. Jul points a destroyer marked as the Devotions Bounty. "You said you commanded a destroyer in the war?"

He nods. "That is correct."

"Then this is your ship." He says.

Rtika's eyes widened, staring at the ship. How long has he wished to be back on a warship, commanding battles. A chance to redeem himself from his failure before.

"This is a great honor. I will command this ship with pride."

Jul smiles. "Well I have your orders. You are to take your ship with me to Sanghelios."


	3. Chapter 3

**Bridge of the CPV-Class Heavy Destroyer The Clarities Virtue, In orbit of Hesduros: APRIL 15, 2553 IN THE HUMAN CALENDAR**.

The order to set course to Sanghelios was one that surprised everyone. What was Jul planning? Why was he having them return to the world that was just plunged into civil war? Did we want us to fight? Unlikely, if so he would brought more than the _The Charities Virtue_ and the Carrier, _The Philosopher_. These were thoughts that buzzed through Rtika' Relcam's head as he settles down on his command chair.

Still, it was nice to be back in command of a starship. Just the idea of having the power to wipe out a planet in his fingertips was absolutely exhilarating.

He glances to his side where Jul is staring at the viewscreen. Instead of sitting down, Jul opted to remain standing. "Commander." Rtika says at last to him. "May I inquire to why we are to head to Sanghelios?"

Jul looks at him and nods. "We are heading there to bolster our numbers. My keep for example will join us. Although Telcam's rebellion was an utter failure, many keeps continue to denounce the Arbiter, they will make keen allies. Meanwhile, the rest of the fleet will establish a rendezvous point somewhere."

Rtika nods in agreement, seeing his logic. "Very well. Set course to Sanghelios."

"Besides," Jul adds. "After the failed assault on Vadam, I have little doubt that the Arbiter is sending his forces out to hunt down the traitors. I just hope that now innocent will die as a result."

The last part of his comment was laced with grief for some reason. Rtika chooses to ignore it as the helmsman keys in the coordinates.

A rift begins to form in the space in front of them and _The Clarities Virtue_ is sucked into the new portal.

* * *

 **Bridge of the CPV-Class Heavy Destroyer The Clarities Virtue, Approaching Sanghelios: APRIL 21, 2553 IN THE HUMAN CALENDAR**.

The journey was largely uneventful, the only news was that the rest of the fleet had made landfall in an abandoned world not far from neutral space.

Finally the _The Clarities Virtue_ comes to an abrupt stop, causing most of the crew standing up to stumble a bit. Through Jul for his part simply takes a step forward and shifts his weight.

About a kilometer away, _The Philosopher_ appears beside us. The Sangheili all stare in amazement at the rust colored world in front of them. For all of them, Sanghelios has always been their ancestral home, though none have ever seen it in person.

Jul for his part looks at it with a mixture of anger and pain. "I will go and prepare a dropship." Jul says, his voice oddly thick as he speaks.

Once he's gone, Rtika gestures for Dasa to come forward. I look from side to side, making sure no one will hear me. "Have you noticed that the Didact's Hand has been acting differently?"

"I have shipmaster. In our trip to Panom, I heard that his wife has recently perished during her attempt to search for him. The ship she was on was shot down by the Arbiter cruisers."

Rtika's respect for Jul only seems to grow even more. " _Had I been in his place, I would have sent my fleet against the Arbiter, demanding blood. Yet he chooses to return to his clan and ensure it's safety."_

"Zola, will you please report to the bridge?" Rtika announce, pressing a button on his command chair then speaking to microphone.

The doors slide open and Zola Kuramai walks in. Unlike the rest of the warriors who are dressed in new Storm harnesses, Zola prefers his old Officer uniform. "You summoned me Shipmaster?" He salutes at me.

Rtika nods. "I did. I want you to accompany the Didact's Hand to the surface. He may need skilled warriors to assist him."

Zola nods. "Yes shipmaster."

He turns and leaves, marching down the to the hanger.

* * *

 **Hangar Deck of the CPV-Class Heavy Destroyer The Clarities Virtue**

Zola finds the Didact's Hand with some others loading a Phantom with supplies. "Greetings commander." Zola says.

"Major." He nods in return.

"I was tasked by the Shipmaster to join you on the surface." Zola explains.

Jul nods. "Very well, we are leaving now."

He climbs aboard a Type-44 Phantom along with five other Sangheili and a four Unggoy. The last Sangheili, a young female in green combat harness of a weapons master.

She looks back at Zola and smiles playfully at him. Zola feels his heartbeat quickening as he steps aboard. The pilot activates the controls and the phantom sails out of the ship and into the planet's atmosphere.

There was no conversation between the warriors during the trip, instead all adjust their armor and check on their weapons. "Stay you're weapons warriors. We will not need it where we are going." He looks at the pilot. "Head to this location." He taps the computer several times.

A rural landscape comes into view in the console screen. Night has already come on the region and the keep is only lit up by lights coming from windows. The land was built for farmland and the land is plowed with crops already beginning to grow.

The Phantom circles the keep once before settling down in the landing pad near the castle. Already several figures are waiting at the landing pad. The ramp opens up and the figures tense up, hands reaching down to their weapons.

Jul steps in front of us and simply waves the warriors off. "Uncle Naxan."

"Jul?" An older Sangheili says in disbelief as he strides forward, pushing his younger counterparts aside. "Is that truly you?"

"It is uncle." Jul replies, lowering his head and bowing respectfully the elder. "I have escaped from captivity and returned home."

Naxan gapes, his face lighting up. "So the Arbiter did capture you! Raia was right!"

Zola, for the first time ever saw the Didact's Hand falter. "No, uncle." He chokes out. "She was not. I was captured by humans and taken to one of their facilities to study."

"Humans?" Naxan looks at him quizzically. "What business do they have in this?"

"They were supplying Telcam with arms." Jul growls, rising from the dirt, his expression filled with fiery determination. Pairing that with his new armor, he resembled a god of war to even a skeptic like Zola. "They wish to sow the seeds of discord and strife to our people. I will not allow it. I will fight to my last breath to stop those humans."

The Sangheili around them stand up straighter, roaring in approval. Naxan however, is not impressed. He looks at Jul seriously and says. "Such bold words my nephew, but words will not stop the humans. Do you have a plan? Do you have the resources to deliver on such promises you make?"

"Not yet." Jul admits. "That is one reason I returned here. I've come to gather new soldiers into my faction."

Naxan laughs bitterly. "Well my nephew, if you came here to ask me for warriors, you will be disappointed. The past few cycles were not kind to us." To prove his point, he shines a light to the eastern walls and everyone falls silent.

The Phantom was only able to show the western fields, those were rich and healthy. The east did not share those fortunes. The keeps wall there have already begun to crumble, cracks and scorch marks from plasma fire. Beyond that the fields have either been cleared out altogether or trampled by the boots of hundreds.

"W-what happened there?" Zola manages to breath out as he stares at the carnage. Also being from an agricultural keep, he understands how difficult it is to lose weeks of work in crops.

"Opportunists." Naxam spats in disgust. "After the void in power left by you're disappearance and Raia's death, our rivals took this as a chance to gain more land at our keeps expense. They've slowly pushed us back and I fear tomorrow our forces will finally break."

"Which clan is responsible?" Jul demands.

"The Ontom clan."

Jul himself looks a bit unsure. Ontom although never friends with Mdama, but at least they never desired to overthrow them or had any quarrel with them. "Why?"

"They are feeling the pressure of their arrogance. After their failed assault on Vadam, many keeps saw it wise as not to be associated with them, including trade. With no way to import food in and a lack knowledge to grow crops effectively themselves, they decided to try conquering us and making us their supplier." Naxan informs him.

Even under such a dire position, Jul couldn't help but feel a sense of smug satisfaction. Finally the once proud clans are beginning to realize the importance of his small backwater keep. But this quickly vanishes at another thought. "Where is Levu? Should he not be here to help one of his client keeps?"

Naxan shakes his head. "Ontom wasn't the only one to suffer for supporting the wrong side. Many clans including our own have found themselves ostracized for supporting the wrong side. Although Levu vowed to support us, it will take days for him to scrape up enough support to form a relief force." Jul swore he sensed a hint of resentment in his voice.

He looks back at Zola. "Summon _the Philosopher_ , have them begin to deploy the troops here."

* * *

 **Courtyard of Bekan Keep**

Asum 'Mdama snarls in anger and charges forward, whirling his stave around. Naxan sees this attack coming a mile away and expertly raises his own staff to block it. Asum wasn't done yet. He keep swinging his with uncharacteristic recklessness, often leaving his sides open and overextending his swings.

Naxan easily dances circles around him. He dodges a poor swing and smacks one end of his staff against Asum's side. Asum growls and brings his staff down, trying to strike Naxan's head.

The older warrior easily stops the attack with the shaft of his stave. With a flick of his wrist the polearm strikes Asum's cheek.

The fledgling warrior collapses in the dirt. "Discipline Asum!" Naxan roars in frustration. "If this had been a real fight I would have killed you five times."

Asum sighs, picking up his staff and practicing his swings. It was rare that he was reprimanded by Naxan, and when he is, once was enough to whip him into shape. Not today though. This was the second time he's been scolded by his uncle.

But as he looks up at the ramparts where Jul is standing, Asum feels his rage beginning to build. His attacks go from calm and fluid to angry and clumsy.

"Child." Naxan says again, though this time his voice is much gentler. "What is the matter?.

"It is nothing uncle." Asum lies. His uncle wouldn't understand.

Naxan suddenly rappes Asum across the back of his head. "Don't lie to me! The last person who said that to me was you're brother!"

Asum recoils as if his Uncle actually struck him. He closes his eyes and nods sadly. He knew full well what he meant. A few nights after their mother died, a sentry noticed a ghost was missing along with Dural.

At first everyone believed he was kidnapped by a rival clan, but soon many began to believe that he ran away. Search parties were sent out to look for him, but as the days dragged on it became painfully clear that he would not return, dead or alive.

"Perhaps you need a break to cool down." Naxan says, far more gently than he's ever seen him.

Asum nods and heads to his quarters. He curls into a ball as he lays there. " _What am I to do now? I have no mother, no brother, even uncle Forze is dead."_ He peers out through the tiny window in his chambers to see Naxan directing the other children. " _All I really have left is uncle Naxan."_ He gaze shifts up to the Keep's walls as he barely contains a hiss. " _And uncle Jul."_

He looks back outside and feels a wave of shame as he sees the other boys, even the girls are training, while he sulks in his room.

"Asum?" A young voice calls out to him. Two of his friends appear at his doorway. "Asum?" The female, Vara calls again.

"Hello Vara, Gmal." He greets them sullenly.

Gmal walks in and walks around the room. "What are you doing in here? Shouldn't you be training with Uncle Naxan?"

Asum sighs slumping on his bed. "He told me I needed some time to cool off."

"What happened?" Vara frowns, her mandibles half pressed together, a sign of concern. "Did you do something?"

"I was getting reckless in combat, getting angrier." Asum replies looking at the two of them. "I've been like that since he arrived here."

"Who?" Gmal asks but Vara nods in understanding, her frown deepens as she picks up a painting of Asum and Raia together. Asum clicks his mandibles together nervously. That was one of the few keepsakes he had of his mother, it was something he treasured greatly.

"Uncle Jul you dolt!" Vara hisses as she puts down the picture. Gmal looks annoyed at Vara's insult but remains in one side with his stave resting on the floor like a sentry on watch duty. "You can't blame him. You're mother made her own choices. I'm sure he did what he thought was right."

Asum is still dismayed. "And look at the result of his actions? Our clan is under constant attack by rivals and many of our brother and sisters our dead."

Gmal speaks up. "I have to agree with Vara friend. It's a bit unfair to blame uncle Jul for that. After all, he was in human captivity."

"Exactly what I mean!" He cries belligerently. "If he were a true warrior that took uncle Naxam's lessons to heart, he would have killed himself to preserve his honor."

Then another thought occurs to him. What if he were in his place. Would he truly had the courage to end himself if it came to it. What would it take before he cracked under the pressure, especially if the put him under the knife.

Nothing. He would never let them break him. His rivals thinks of him as weak for weeping for their mother. No, he would show them how strong he was. He wouldn't let the humans, or the Arbiter, or anyone break him.

"Perhaps you should look at his situation a different way from how we were raised to do so." Vara says candidly. "I'm not saying I agree with what he did, but maybe you should at least listen to him."

Asum doesn't meet her gaze and simply looks at the foot of his bed. "Odd." Gmal yawns, no longer paying attention to the conversation. "It seems uncle Naxan has dismissed class early."

Vara and Asum are on their feet in seconds. Asum pushes Gmal aside and glances out the window. True to his friends word, the courtyard is being cleared out with Naxan barking at the children to get inside.

"Odd indeed." Asum says dubiously. The older males on the other hand begin to come out, many clutching rifles and swords.

His black eyes widen as he suddenly snatches the stave from Gmal's hands and runs out, ignoring the shouts. His legs carry Asum across the courtyard in a few moments and runs up to the stairs of one of the turrets. In the walls, Sangheili begin assembling and ready their weapons.

"Whats going on Jul!" He demands, intentionally omitting his title.

In reply, he points at the horizon where a wave of dark leathery skin and blue and red combat armor marching. The orange armored Sangheili beside Jul roars. "Turrets!"

A number of warriors climb into Shade turrets or plasma cannons set up at the ramparts. The warriors cannons roar to life and fire upon the advancing army.

Normally the high ground would have given the army a major advantage, but here it has left the warriors exposed against the strategically placed gun emplacements. The superheated plasma easily burns through the attackers shields and flesh.

"Warriors! You are the men of Bekan. Do not let your home fall!" Jul shouts, activating his sword. The other Sangheili roar loudly, many readying carbines and beam rifles.

They take cover and ready themselves, then all at once they open fire. dozens of purple and green beams pierce through the sky and cut down Sangheili and Unggoy in droves.

The Unggoy soon begin to break formation, many turning heel and running away, though many also ignite plasma grenades and charge forward in kamikaze charges.

"Asum! Get down from here." Jul commands as the walls shudder and crack from the suicide attack.

"I'm not leaving." He shouts defiantly.

"INCOMING!" Zola warns as several plasma mortars are launched by Wraith tanks in a distance.

Jul wraps himself around Asum as one mortar flies dangerously close to him. More rounds hit the wall, vaporizing the defenders, throwing them off the wall or crushing them with rubble. The mortars then begin turning on the gun emplacements.

The Didact's Hand stumbles as the wall crumbles down underneath him, nearly letting him fall off. "Get off the wall! We'll fight them face to face. This battle will be won by the sword."

The battered defenders hurry down the wall. Jul and his men are helping them down, handing out weapons. "Prepare to open the gates. We will face the Ontom clan head on."

"Are you mad?" Zola cries. "They outnumber us by at least four to one, and have better artillery. Do you truly expect to be able to fight them. It would be a massacre."

Jul turns to him. "And what difference would it be if we simply wait here and let them besiege us? I would much rather die leading fighting, even a hopeless fight."

"What of the women, elderly and children? Do you intend to sacrifice them as well?" Zola snaps indignantly.

The Covenant leader snorts, unaffected by his lieutenants assessment. "Those who cannot fight are to head to my citadel. Everyone else prepare for battle, we may not be able to hold the keep but we certainly will not make it easy for them!" He raises his energy sword high above his head, an age old sign of the desire for blood.

Even Asum, for all his anger towards Jul, couldn't help but also be impressed. If this was the kind of warrior Jul was, fighting till the end and never quailing before the odds, then maybe he does deserve to be able to listen to Jul's story

The Sangheili on the ramparts nods and begins to open the great gates. Jul swallows a lump in his throat as the gates open. Outside are hundred of advancing Unngoy and Sangheili. Many are too surprised that someone just opened the gates for them to even react at first.

Jul roars and raises his blades, racing forward. He slashes his sword in a wide arc, catching through Unggoy at the necks then thrusting it into a Sangheili's midsection.

His other warriors join him in, fighting their way through to join Jul. In the few seconds it took the warriors of Ontom to get past their shock, already several dozen are dead.

Zola and Asum remain back, the former firing his carbine to pick off any foes trying to move past Jul's defenses. The sound of aircraft briefly drown out the battle. No fewer than ten banshees burst from the clouds and begin raining plasma down at the keep.

"Get down!" Zola, shouts, pulling Asum to the ground. The fighters zoom over their heads and discharge their plasma cannons at the buildings below.

Asum lets out anguished cries as he watches his beloved home burn to the ground. Zola fires his carbines as the prepares for another bombing run. His carbine rounds however simply bounce off the Banshee's armor. Through the flames of one of the larger buildings, a Sangheili carrying a fuel rod gun.

The Sangheili is dressed in a green combat harness and fires at the Banshees. Her first few shots are clean misses, though two score direct hits against the aircraft.

The Banshee's begin to break apart into bits of burning metal. Zola roars in triumph at the sight, but quickly curses as the remaining eight begin to circle around. On instinct, Arum grabs a blue sphere clipped to Zola's belt and presses the bright red button.

Before the older warrior could protest, Arum lobs the grenade onto one of the rapidly approaching aircraft. The grenade sticks onto its underbelly and is consumed in the light blue flames. Zola could only nod in approval at he fires his carbine at the remaining fighters.

Fortunately at this point several warriors have realized how big of a threat the Banshees pose and mount on the few functioning shades and return fire. Down below, the battle is not going as well. The initial shock of Jul's attack has worn off and the defenders of Bekam find themselves being pushed back to the keep's gates.

Any semblance of order has broken down, now warriors find themselves locked in single combat with one another. The fighting is intense and neither side shows any side of bulking. Jul stands in the middle of the battle, rushing forward with his plasma rifle.

His plasma splashes over an Ontom warriors torso. The Sangheili screams in agony as he falls, his body burning. But even as he falls, three warriors come at him.

Discarding his rifle, Jul pulls out his energy sword and charges to meet them. His first foe was taken off guard and unable to stop the sword that slashes his throat open. The remaining two back away and raise their sword defensively.

Jul pulls his sword back then explodes in a burst of movement. One warrior feels his arm get cut from one of Jul's stroke then screams as the blade cuts through his torso.

The other manages to step forward and thrust his sword forward, but instead of feeling his blade cut through flesh, he feels sizzling energy as Jul brought his sword down at the last second to block his strike. With all his strength, Jul shoves his sword arm upward and feels his opponent thrown back. He moves with lightning speed and brings the sword down onto the warrior's chest.

All around him the two clans forces are in the middle of an intense fight. Plasma sizzles around him and swords flash before meeting other ground has become a gore field as the roads run red with blood and in covered with bits and pieces of fallen combatants.

Retrieving his plasma sword, Jul roars and searches for his next foe.

At this point, the warriors of Ontom's superior numbers have begun to show and have begun to turn the tide. For every Ontom warrior that falls, two defenders join him. _Damn it, where are the reinforcements._ Zola curses silently and leaps down with his carbine raised. He then begins to snipe down Unggoy from the second suicide attack.

Meanwhile, the four Wraith tanks are being brought up from behind the attackers lines and have their mortars trained at the damaged walls.

Before the attack can continue, six Spirit dropships clear through the skies and land in a semi-circle around the enemy warriors effectively cutting them off. The bays of the aircraft all open up and unload detachments of fresh troops while simultaneously having the Spirits provide support fire against the Wraiths.

Unggoy, Sangheili and most thankfully, four Mgalekgolo.

"Forget the walls! Target those ships." The crimson armored Zealot commands raising his energy sword to get his troops attention.

He climbs aboard one of the tanks and throws the unsuspecting Unggoy gunner off the turret before mounting on it himself and firing at the nearest dropship.

He appears to have hit something important as the Spirit begins to catch fire and spins around. The remaining warriors and crew leap out at the last second and join the fight. The remaining Spirits veer away to avoid mortar shells and return fire their plasma turrets. Shards of burning metal fly from an exploding tank past the leader as he feebly tries to fire back.

It wasn't long before even his tanks operator loses heart and begins to move back.

Ontom's infantry slowly descends into chaos as cracks form in their lines. Soon the with one final push, the invaders lines break.

Surviving warriors break away in full retreat as their pursuers gun them down with murderous intent. Zola stops to pick up a fallen beam rifle and takes aim. He quickly looks away from panicking grunts or lesser Sangheili trying to assume command and spots his target, a zealot on the turret of a Wraith tank

He shouts at his troops running past him, trying to get them to turn around and face them while simultaneously arguing with the wraiths driver. Zola smiles as he peers through the scope and sees his head.

With one pull of the trigger the warriors head is vaporized.

Without the leader, the remaining warriors flee to their transports. Old style Sangheili barges used to transport supplies and laborers.

Jul who was leading the assault raises his sword and roars loudly enough the he's heard through the shouts. "Halt! We're overextended."

It took a few minutes, but Jul and the other officers cow the men in line. Zola pushes himself through the crowd of warriors. "The last of the invaders have fled. What would you have us do now?"

Jul grunts. "Let them flee. They will be executed for their cowardice. Meanwhile we will return to the keep and plan our next move."

Zola nods and makes several gestures to the men and they all begin to turn and begin marching back. Jul looks at the battlefield one last time and observes the thousands of bodies on the ground. " _Our people have fallen, but we may rise from the carnage."_

He then turns and joins his men.


	4. Chapter 4

**Bekam Keep, Sanghelios: APRIL 23, 2553 IN THE HUMAN CALENDAR.**

The sun was beating down full force to Covenant troops outside of the Keep. Yet despite being Drenched in sweat, Rtika did not mind as he and another warrior drag a fallen Sangheili away from the battlefield. He was more than happy to join his men in their manual labor.

The best leaders are those who lead by example, and any warrior who sees their leader not raising a complaint at the hardship they are all facing will be less inclined to protest.

Grunting loudly, he sets the body down by the roadside where a pair of Unggoy hurriedly, yet carefully remove the warriors armor. The dead warrior suffered from multiple plasma burns and parts of his armor were even scorched to his body. It took a little extra effort, but the squat aliens were able to pry it all off.

A Kig-yar picks up the dead Sangheili's plasma rifle and wipes flecks of dark purple blood off the weapon before carelessly throwing to a box filled similar spoils.

The other Sangheili, an inexperienced soldier it seems based on his undamaged cobalt Storm harness growls. "Careful pirate. If so much as a single helmet is missing, you are the one to blame." He kicks the corpse with his boot. "You might even find yourself in this ones place."

The avian creature gulps nervously which causes his two officers to laugh. Rtika surveys the field and spots no more stray bodies. He picks up the box and loads it onto a cart. "Let's get these back to the keep."

"It's shameful what we're doing." The younger warrior says as he climbs onto a Velithra and kicks its ribs. The beast of burden moans loudly, but begins to walk to the direction of the keep.

"It is indeed degrading that we must scavenge the dead for supplies." The Shipmaster admits, walking beside the cart while the Unggoy and Kig-yar march behind him. "But without factories to produce weapons and armor, this is the best we can do."

Though even as he says it, he feels a twinge of bitterness in his chest. Once supply armies much bigger would have been of little issue, yet now the mighty Sangheili have been reduced to scavenging through corpses of fellow warriors like vultures just to equip their troops with the most basic of equipment.

Rtika quickly brushes those thoughts aside. Under the Didact's Hand they will be restored to greatness. He already unified the clans of Hesduros, its only a matter of time until they would be able to industrialize it.

Still. He shoots a glance back at the wagon. Hopefully his men would still be alive to see that dream given how damaged their new equipment is. The weapons at least were of acceptable condition, however it's the armor is what concerns Rtika. Much if what they found was in bad condition and to him at least, it looks like repairing it would be a fruitless endeavor.

Though he wasn't about to deny his engineers the chance to try.

By the time they have returned to the keep the sun was at its zenith which causes the Unggoy who were huffing as they had to lug their methane tanks all the way back to sweat profusely. The cleanup of the keep had already begun. Women are sweeping rubble away from the streets while Unggoy and Sangheili workers have taken to repairing the buildings.

Despite all that destruction, everyone was in a good mood and confidence was high among warrior and civilians alike. As Rtika and his men walk past them, people were quick to greet him or clap him on the back and offer their adulations to him.

Rtika's communicator begins to beep loudly causing all of them to stop. "Sir. The Didact's Hand requests your presence on his ship immediately."

He pulls it out of his belt and taps the glowing button on the top. "Speak." He barks to the sentry on the other end.

"Shipmaster." The sentry replies sounding quite nervous. "The Didact's Hand requests your presence on his carrier immediately."

"Understood." He says before shutting the communicator off and detaching himself from his warriors. When the young Storm gives him a questioning look and hesitates. The Shipmaster shakes his head with a smile. "Go. You're done for the day. Now get some rest."

The Storm nods and follows the rest of his squad to the inn. Rtika goes in the opposite direction to the landing pad where one of his Phantoms has landed on the pad for supplies to be loaded. He stiffens slightly as he sees the laborers at work were Jiralhanae. Two of them with brown shaggy fur and reeking of musk.

The Shipmaster knew that the furred aliens express their emotions with the scent the excrete. And by the smell of it they were equally put off by his presence. He snorts and ignores them and steps onto the sleek purple dropships platform.

The pilot steps out and bows his head. It was a silent looking Storm with his left eye missing and in its place was a long scar. As far as he knew, none of his warriors knew this Storms name and had just taken to referring to him as 'Cyclops.'

But he did know that while Cyclops only had one eye, its vision was impeccable making him an impressive sniper and pilot.

"To the Didact's Hands ship." I inform him and strap myself down to a chair.

Cyclops points at the supplies meant to be transported on the _Clarities Virtue_. "You can deliver them later on the way back." He grunts in compliance and shrugs as he heads back to his station.

From the camera he can see a full view of the Keep below. The Clarities Virtue was also there, hovering over the city for added protection. It was stationed there by the Didact's Hand personally just in case any of the Ontom Clan decided to return. As doubtful as it was, Rtika could appreciate the caution.

The doors of the dropship suddenly open and reveal the polished hanger of the _Philosopher_. Although it could have held over five hundred fighters and forty dropships, there was a mere fraction. Maybe about a dozen or so Seraph fighters, just as many Banshees and a few older fighters. There were half that number of Dropships.

Though what there was in abundance were recruits. After driving off the armies of Ontom back, many decided to join the Covenant and their ranks have swelled with new troops.

Rtika walks to the bridge with his arms folded and his cape billowing behind him. The metallic doors slide open to reveal the bridge. The bridge of the Carrier was not so different as the one he had on his own destroyer.

An elevated platform dominates the center of the room where the command chair is placed with screens and computers. The rest of the bridge were scattered terminals with Sangheili hard at work.

Jul 'Mdama was sitting on the command chair, staring at holographic maps and absently tapping on it. The Shipmaster stops a few feet from him. "Supreme Commander." Rtika sinks to one knee and bows before him.

He swivels his chair to face Rtika. "Ah. Shipmaster." He nods and stands up, gesturing for his subordinate to rise. Rtika climbs to the feet. "You summoned me my lord?"

"Indeed." He nods and swipes the screen to show the map off Mdama land and a nearby island. "I summoned you here to discuss our next move against Ontom."

Rtika feels his hearts beat faster in excitement. Like the rest of his men, he'd also was eager for another fight against the Ontom. "What did you have in mind?" He tries to keep his voice even and his rapidly growing elation in check.

Jul places a hand on Rtika's shoulder. "The army of Ontom is in disarray thanks to our efforts. We must now press our advantage and go on the offensive. I want you to take you're Destroyer and assault their state. You shall be my spear ready to strike at the heart of our foe."

The Shipmaster resists the urge to roar out loud from simple religious zeal, but he again keeps his composure. "It will be an honor Supreme Commander, but where will you be?"

"I shall remain here for a few days to arm and train the new recruits, and perhaps interrogate the deserters who joined our force."

"Will you spare them?" Rtika asks cautiously, mandibles pressing together.

A cold, calculating smile plays across his own mandibles. "They have use to me, so I will spare them. For the time being."

Rtika gulps nervously and salutes before walking out. While he definitely approved of killing such Sangheili who sell out their kin so quickly, it leaves a lingering thought in the back of his mind. Would the Supreme Commander do the same to him if he were to fail.

He pushes those thoughts aside and focuses on the mission.

* * *

 **Bridge CPV-class Heavy Destroyer** _ **Clarities Virtue**_ **, Ontom, Sanghelios: APRIL 23, 2553 IN THE HUMAN CALENDAR**

One of the plasma torpedo turrets charges up onthe ship's prow, then fires the red bolt down at the city.

The torpedo was like a lance piercing the belly of a monster. A towering spire was gutted completely and rumbles loudly before vanishing from the city's skyline. In response, turrets from a different structure open fires and pounds against the Destroyer's shields.

A tremor goes off across the entire ship, sending most of the Sangheili on the bridge stumbling a step. All except for Rtika had his feet firmly planted on the floor. He watches all of this from the external cameras and with increasing frustration.

He had taken a stab directly at Ontom's capital, unleashing his entire arsenal upon them. Now he's beginning to regret his decision. Their defenses proved to be more formidable than he initially anticipated and there were a number of hidden turrets below within the city. "Intensify the shields on the stern and direct some laser turrets to that tower." Rtika commands, jabbing his finger to the tower where flak is coming from. The bridge officers nod and turn back to their stations, feverously typing on their consoles.

Several of the turrets on the stern swivel away from their inactive position and are aimed at their targets. A score of them power up and fire at the tower. Like butter exposed to a flame, each lance of plasma sears the sides of the towers, weakening the structures until it finally collapses.

But it was like fighting a swarm of Unggoy. Every one you kill, there were always more waiting. Anti-air cannons from other towers and even the street open fire again.

Zola steps towards his Commander. "Shipmaster. I recommend that we withdraw our ship to regroup."

Rtika bares his fangs and leaps to his feet. If he had been the violent type, would have struck his second-in-command. "I would not retreat now. Not when we can defeat them."

"We are not in a favorable position Shipmaster." He persists. "Their defenses are strong and we must rethink our plan of attack."

He did have a point there. Despite the destruction they were able to wrought upon the city, the defenders didn't seem close to breaking. An alarm bell suddenly blares behind the Shipmaster and causes him to swivel back.

A panicked young officer who was standing with him in the elevated platform turns and faces him. "Incoming plasma rounds." He cries. "High velocity plasma shells."

"Evasive action!" Rtika roars and grips the armrest of his chair as the helmsman struggles to turn the ship away. He looks out his monitor and sees the rapidly approaching bolt. "Brace yourselves."

As the ship turns, the bolt pierces right through the one of the fins extending out of the ship's bottom and then moving towards the bottom side of the _Clarity_. For a moment it seemed like the shields would hold.

But a moment later, the shield in that area shatters like glass and the lance grazes the _Clarity's_ side. Small explosions blossom from that area and the ship begins to tilt to one side. Rtika's hearts stop, for a dreadful moment it seemed like something important had been hit, but seconds later the helmsman corrects himself and the ship moves back to its upright position.

Zola was behind him, his dark green eyes filled with concerned, though his expression remains emotionless. Rtika sighs inwardly and gestures to the helmsman. "Very well, we shall withdraw. For now."

Even as he turns, Rtika could see Zola sighing in relief. The ship's engines begin to power up, it was just hovering over the city and now begins to hum loudly as the engines burst into motion. Though it was not towards the sea where they came from, but to the mountains nearby.

Once they were out of the city turrets effective range, Rtika looks back at his second in command. "Well then Major. What do you suggest we do?" He sinks back into his chair and rests his arm on his knee and covers his face with his hand.

Zola winces slightly at Rtika's sharp tone. Though he couldn't fault him for his impatience. Realistically their options were very limited.

Returning back to Mdama to without having anything less than total victory would be unthinkable. With most of their fleet in some other part of the galaxy, reinforcements were unlikely save for the new recruits the Didact's Hand has with him. It certainly would not be wise to simply wait here for in their own territory and let them rebuild without putting some pressure on them. Despite their weakened state, Ontom can still levy many soldiers.

That leaves only one option to Zola.

"We could send a team inside the city." He offers. "They could gather information and perhaps sabotage the defenses."

Rtika glances up and looks at him. He was slightly surprised and seems to genuinely consider it. Finally his mandibles relax part. Pleased. "A sound strategy Major. I will assemble a team to move to the surface, and a ship for them to use."

He grabs Zola's shoulder. "And you my friend, shall lead this team into the city."

The orange armored Sangheili blinks in surprise. He slowly begins to plant his fist firmly into his chest and bows down in humility. "It would be an honor shipmaster. I will not fail you."

"I know you won't." Rtika helps him to his feet.

* * *

 **Hangar Deck of CPV-class Heavy Destroyer** _ **Clarities Virtue**_ **, Ontom, Sanghelios: APRIL 23, 2553 IN THE HUMAN CALENDAR**

"Prepare for launch. Freighter _Bounty of the Harvest_ prepare for launch." The AI drones in its monotone voice through the speakers. Unlike human constructs who enjoyed personifying themselves in a physical body, Covenant AIs were satisfied with simply doing their designated duties.

Zola finishes packing his supplies and slings the bag over his back as he begins walking to the freighter. It was clearly not off Sangheili design and looked like a bizarre hodgepodge of thrusters, wires, girders and other modules haphazardly joined together on the hull.

More likely a Kig-yar vessel. Thought Zola as he steps onto the ramp on the side of the ship's hull. He adjusts his tan tunic which he wore over his Combat harness in order to appear as a merchant. Though his armor made his tunic puff up a bit, at least it wouldn't be noticed to the casual viewer.

The inside was compact and filled with a few crates that were loaded with some crops just to make their disguises look convincing. His team consisted off a handful of Kig-yar and Unggoy who would acts as a crew, along with Dasa, and the female weapons master.

Most of the crewmen were busy with the ship and didn't respond, but the two other Sangheili stand up and nod. "Greetings Zola." Dasa nods. One of the Kig-yar moves to the pilot's seat and starts up the ship.

The weapons master smiles and extends her hand towards me. "Greetings Major. I am Nuia 'Suralumai."

"Suralumai?" He looks at her hand in surprise. The -ai suffix was only used for Aristocrats. "A name of a swordsman."

She clicks her mandibles and shrugs as if it were obvious. "Well my father is a swordsman after all."

Now that was truly surprising. Sangheili fathers never revealed their identity to their children. Something like this was completely unheard of on Hesduros, much less of an Aristocrat who would never be allowed to wed.

"Why would he do that?" Zola questions bluntly. He quickly clamps his mandibles shut as soon as the words come out. A throaty chuckles comes out of Dasa, and Nuia glares at him.

Even two of the Kig-yar stop briefly working snigger amongst themselves. He takes mental note of their faces. Those two would receive quite the thrashing later. But he turns back to the weapons master. "What I meant was it seemed unorthodox for that to happen." Zola adds hurriedly.

The Weapons Master still looks annoyed, but when she speaks it was civil. "He didn't tell me. I come from a colony where there are only a few hundred souls who live there, it was not too difficult to track him down and ask him to train me." She indicates to the plasma sword hilt strapped to her belt.

So she's a warrior. Zola smiles. It was oddly attractive to see this female not simply cowed by tradition. "Then it will be an honor to fight alongside you." He clasps her hand tightly. "I am Major Zola 'Teham."

A smile forms on her mouth and she shakes it. "So what shall be our story? When we arrive to the city and someone asks us, it would be important that we have our stories coherent."

Dasa thinks for a minute and his face lights up. "We are refugees from a far off colony that has been continuously raided by the Jiralhanae so we moved here to sell our wares and search for a better life. That way no one will ask questions to why we have so little food to sell."

"I like it." Nuia nods and taps her chin. "It would also explain why we have weapons and armor."

All of them begin packing our gears, hiding weapons in our packs. The Clarity didn't move too far away from the city, just enough that we were out of site from the city.

The Kig-Yar pilot hisses loudly over the microphone in a guttural tone. The only thing that gives an indication to what he was screeching was the ship's loud thud. "We've arrived." It hisses again in broken Sangheili.

Zola nods to the two of them who begin to prepare themselves. The Major stands in front of them as the door opens and the bright light breaks through the opening. He hisses and blinks several times as his eyes adjust to the change in lighting.

He steps down to the ground and gestures for the rest of his team down. There were two Sangheili guards standing in front of their ship watching them expectantly. "Halt." One calls out at them. "Identify yourselves."

Dasa blinks in confusion. "Excuse me?" The Unggoy begin lugging the crates down the ramp and dropping it on the ground.

The elite holds out his datapad. "This is a listing of ships. And it appears you're ship is not in this list." He brandishes his plasma rifle. "Care to explain?"

"We are refugees from the colonies." Nuia begins to choke up as she explains. She spoke so convincingly that even Zola felt convinced. She an amazing actress. "We were forced to leave our world because of Jiralhanae raids there. The rest of our family did not survive."

"I'm sorry to hear that sister." The second guard says sympathetically. "You have my-

"But this is still in violation to our rules here." The first one interjects, baring his fangs threateningly. "Now get your ship out of here now."

The second guard seems irritated at his partners aggressiveness and gives the three of them an apologetic look. "They did not now. I suppose we can forget about this if you unload your cargo now and be quick about it. There are still others who are waiting for their turn."

"I understand and we are sorry for the inconvenience we caused." Zola replies.

The second guard simply waves it off. "Hardly a problem friends."

"At least inspect their cargo." The first guard huff irritably. "I hope you don't forget our protocol brother."

His partner sighs in exasperation and was practically grinding his teeth together . "I haven't. Let's go then."

The guards approached one of the containers and wrench the lid off. One of them gags. "Gah. What a foul smell." He pulls a melon out and hefts it in his hand before sniffing it. He cringes and drops it back into the crate.

"Just the smell of your food is enough to kill a Jiralhanae." He spats on the ground.

"Well they had their world, I doubt the conditions would have been ideal for transporting food." The other elite reasons evenly.

He sneers and shuts the crate. "I half expected there to be flies included in it. You're just lucky that there's no prohibition terrible wares. Just get it out of the way." With that he turns at his heel and begins to walk away.

"Thank you my lord." Zola bows and keeps his head low simply because he didn't trust himself with remaining civil if he looked the warrior in the eye. "What do you suggest we do?" He turns to Dasa who was right behind him, walking in a casual pace.

He smiles. "Well we are merchants. We go to the market and sell crops."

Zola nods to his teammates and each pick up a box to carry it to the market area.

Despite the recent attack by the Clarity, the outside was still active with life. Many of the cities citizens were out and about the market, shopping at perusing through the stalls of merchants. Though there were surprisingly few vendors for such a large city so it wasn't hard to find an empty spot to use.

"Oh that looks like nice spot." Nuia walks ahead of them and points to an empty spot beside two stalls. We grunt in agreement and begin setting the boxes down while the Weapons Master pulls out a handmade blanket and setting it down on the spot.

"I'll get the Unggoy to bring the rest of our crops down." Nuia says and disappears into the crowds. Zola and Dasa begins to unload the crops and starts to shout promotions to their food and whenever a customer stops by, he begins to converse with them.

Zola grunts and absently throws crops that citizens request to them and watches his partner with annoyance. While he respected the spy's ability to gather information, at the same time he way too much time simply talking and was too laid back for her taste.

He reaches into the crate for some fruits when he realizes that it was near empty. He pulls out the last fruit and drops it into the customer's hand. "No more." He says to the other Sangheili waiting behind him.

The groan in frustration and begin to disperse. "Don't worry, more crates will arrive shortly." The people seem to light up at this and talk amongst themselves.

"You know brother, our mission is to gather information." Zola whispers harshly to his comrades ears. "Yet you seem to spend your time engaging in idle chatter with the people."

Dasa simply chuckles in amusement. "I see." He shakes his head. "I see how you look at me Major. You think me a fool for simply talking to every person I see, but with each person I speak to is an opportunity to gather more information."

"What?" He hisses incredulous. "How could that possibly be true?"

His mirth seems to grow as he hears this. "Well there is a saying: loose lips sink ships. It means that unguarded talk can be dangerous. What appears to be simple small talk can have dangerous consequences to the enemy."

"I find that hard to believe." He replies skeptically.

"Oh really?" He rises to that challenge. "Then observe brother."

Dasa leaves their spot and approaches one of the nearby stalls were some women who could have passed off as his mother are talking. He walks right past them and approaches the stand and sets some credits down. "I wish to buy some wine, you're best bottle please."

The chubby Unggoy takes the money reaches down digs around for a bottle. "A special occasion?" He asks then grunts in pain as his head bangs against the wooden stall.

"The survivors of the army are returning later. If my brother is among them then it shall be used as an offering to the Gods for smiling upon him. If not, then it shall be a small consolation to my family." Dasa replies and pretends to wipe his eyes with the sleeve of his robe.

A withered hand grabs his shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear that child." One of the women rasps, her voice was filled with warmth when she speaks. "My own son was part of the invasion force. I've prayed every night that he would return safe."

"Then I pray that the Gods show favor to your son as much as my brother." Dasa replies kindly.

"Thank you child." The woman smiles, revealing several missing teeth and squeezes his shoulder. "Thouh we should pray for ourselves as well. With that Destroyer here I fear it will affect imports and leave us without food."

Another woman pushes herself past them and orders her food. "Well that is precisely why I need to get my food now." She says hurriedly and takes the bag of her purchase. "After that attack everyone will be stockpiling supplies. I need to buy my food before the markets dry up."

"Aye, once the warriors of Mdama return, even those slimy Kig-yar would not stick around." A warrior who was passing by stops and joins in. He nudges his head to a group of the bird headed aliens hissing and screaming at each other, seemingly in an argument. "I can't believe we were once allies to those creatures."

"Shameful indeed." Dasa agrees readily.

The guard laughs and picks up one of the fruits, tracing his finger across it. "Well don't worry about food. The Kaidon has prepared for shortages and begun to store food up so that his city will be able to eat for months."

The women fold their arms together skeptically. "And how would you know that?"

"I was tasked with guarding the warehouse later tonight." He replies simply.

Dasa smiles inwardly with renewed interest. He could scarcely believe his good fortune. Information like this could be extremely valuable in the right hands. He would have to tell Zola immediately.

"He better be able to feed us." One of the elders shouts in a nasty tone. "His plans for granting us farmland had already failed."

There was an unhappy ripple among the others gathered. They grumble their agreement while braver ones outright shout it, accompanied by insults to the Kaidon. The guard was unnerved by the crowds angry shrinks away into the crowd.

But Dasa got the information he wanted, he returns to his spot where Zola was waiting impatiently with his arms folded. "Well?" He snaps sharply.

The Minor smirks and leans on the crate. "Do you see that guard there?"

He nods. "What about him?"

"He's going to be guarding the warehouse that holds the cities stockpiled food." Dasa says casually as if this were something he did with all time. "We're going to follow him and later we shall set their warehouse on fire."

Zola's jaw goes slack and his mouth forms an O. "You found out all of that just from one conversation?"

"Indeed. This ship had just been sunk."

"Hmmm." The Major grunts with newfound respect. "But I think it would be best if we also informed the Shipmaster of our plan."

"What plan?" A voice interrupts from behind them followed by a loud crunch. Nuia had taken a bite from the fruit and was accompanied with the Unggoy crewmen. "What are you too planning?"

Dasa smiles broadly. "We are going to take out Ontoms food supply."

Zola hisses, looking around for anyone nearby who could have heard this. "Quiet you fools. There could be people listening us."

A Kig-yar hisses something to Nuia's ear. She nods and hisses something back before sending the bird headed alien away. "The Kig-yar said they found an inn for us to stay at. Come on." She disappears into the crowd moments later and reappears in an alley, gesturing us forward.

"Spirited one isn't she?" Dasa grins.

"That's putting it lightly." Zola grins back and hurries after her. "Come now, my legs are aching and I could use a half decent bed."

The inn here got off rather well from our attack. There were only a handful of burns that were caused by stray plasma rounds. The Sangheili do a quick survey of the building as the enter. It seemed structurally sound and was sufficiently deserted that no one would notice them when they left later.

The room was decently sized for the three of them, though Zola wasn't too sure about the Unggoy and Kig-yar who came with them. He shuts the door behind them and locks it. "This should suffice for the evening, but what of the rest of our crew."

"They are going to be sent back to the ship." She assures them.

The two male elites share a glance before Dasa turns back to Nuia. "We want you to return with them when they go."

"What?" She jumps to her feet and looks at them in surprise. "Why? If you are going to attack the warehouse then you will need my help."

"We understand that you wish to join us." Zola says in his most civil tone he can manage. "But we need someone to relay the information to the Shipmaster so we can coordinate." He swallows a breath. "And if we are to fail, he can try again."

"Why can't you send the Unggoy to do that!" She cries angrily. "I want to also have a chance to fight for our Covenant."

Zola places his hand on the female's shoulder consolingly. "And you will Nuia." He says softly. "But now is not the time for you to fight."

She growls and pulls herself away and begins unlock the door. "Wait where are you going?" Dasa calls after her.

Nuia stops and half turns to them. "To head back to the ship to inform the Shipmaster of your plan." She storms out and kicks the door behind her.

* * *

 **Ontom, Sanghelios: APRIL 23, 2553 IN THE HUMAN CALENDAR**

Night had fallen on the city, with that the two Covenant Sangheili stand by the roof of a nearby building of the food stores. It was easy enough to follow one of the guards who was going to change shifts with the guards currently there.

Dasa uses some binoculars to scan the facility while Zola was was on patrol around him. The darkness offered by the lack of streetlights did a good job in keeping them hidden. The Minor spots three guards in total outside.

They were all with plasma rifles, pistols and grenades. Despite that, it wasn't long until the plasma rifles in their hands were placed back in their belts.

Dasa puts his binoculars back into his belt and flicks his wrist, a blade of energy several inches long materializes into his gauntlet. The two of them vault over the roofs ledge and slide down the angled rooftop and drop into a crouch.

They share a nod before goings off in separate directions. Zola moves to one side of the warehouse, careful to avoid the search lights. Dasa moves to the side of the building just as the guard turns a corner.

He presses his back on the shadows and tries to expose as little of him as he can. The guard walks right past him and grunts gruffly about the cold. Dasa trails after him and drives the blade into the guards spine.

He clamps his hand over the guards mouth to prevent him from screaming before dropping him to the ground. For good measure he jabs the emergy dagger into his back one more time before dragging him to the bushes out of sight.

Quickly retracting his blade, Dasa keeps moving to the back of the warehouse. Buildings like this were common enough in his keep that he knew that there was a secondary entrance in the rear for emergencies.

He finds is partially hidden with some plants but the guards clearly didn't put too much effort in hiding it. There was a brief struggle coming from another part of the warehouse. A tall Sangheili emerges from the bushes and Dasa was relieved to see it was Zola.

"Let's go." Zola pulls out his plasma rifle and takes point. Dasa grips the door handle in his hand and feels the rust nearly break the handle in his arms as he pulls the door open. The pair move in, flipping the light switch open. About a dozen overhead lights flicker to life to show the narrow, dank tunnel.

Keeping their voices low, they quickly cover the length of the underground hallway.

Their boots splash against the puddles on the floor and the only other sound aside from their footsteps was the faint hiss of steam coming from a leaky pipe. At the end there was a short flight of stair followed by another set of doors.

Zola shoves them open and was surprised at what he sees. It was a labyrinth boxes with them piled high in the air. So much that the walls were barely visible and he couldn't even find the door.

He sniffs the air and catches a whiff of the sweet scent of fruits then the smell of raw meat. "You were right." He mutters silently, not quite believing what he saw. There could have been enough food to last then city for months. He scans the area for any possible threats, sweeping his plasma rifle around. Slowly he makes his way past some boxes to reach one side.

Dasa was at his side, crouching down and levels his weapon in front of him. He advances to another side.

The air inside was stale and dusty which causes him to cough as a few specks of dust gets caught in his mouth. He swipes his hand across the dust and then freezes. There was something...off with the air in front of him.

He blinks twice and rubs his eyes. It looked fine to him when he looked again. Perhaps it was just his eyes were just playing tricks on him, but something at the pit of his stomach didn't sit right.

But Zola had already begun planting the explosives on his side and he would need to do his best to catch up. Besides the sooner they finished, the sooner they could leave this place. He pulls out the explosive charges and begins planting to them on support pillars and on two of the corners.

Then a rapid snapping noise followed by explosions of rounds striking against the back of my armor. My shields spark and absorb the crystalline needles, though it depletes a third of his shields.

Dasa hisses and spins around, firing his rifle wildly. At first it seemed like his shots were clean misses, but one round splashes against something and a vague outline of a Sangheili forms before completely materializing.

His would be assassin growls and taps his camouflage module uselessly before being dropped by another burst of plasma fire. Not too far away, Dasa hears his partner grunting and shouting followed by the sizzling noise of an energy blade being drawn.

He would have gone to help him had another warrior leap down from the catwalk above. Although he was cloaked as well, Dasa could tell where he was because of the ignited energy sword gave away his position.

Dasa didn't have his own sword so he draws his crescent shaped dagger. The stealth elite doesn't give him and quarter and lunges at him. The energy blade stops a few inches from his forehead by the Minors weapon.

Sparks fly his knife begins to smoke as the other Elite tries to shove his blade down the remaining inches. With his free hands, Dasa begins punching the side of the Sangheili's face.

With a grunt, the assassin staggers to the side and rubs his mandibles with one hand. Dasa wastes no time to ram his blade into his adversaries ribcage. His eyes go wide as his blade pierces one of his hearts and blood explodes everywhere from his body like a piñata.

He could still hear Zola's vicious roars against his own foes. That at least meant he was alive.

Dasa moves to join him when the stacked crates above him begins to shake. He backs up and raises his arms in front of his face protectively as it tumbles on top of him. Pain explodes all over him and a rectangular box slams into him.

The Sangheili cries out in agony as his body and both his arms were pinned to the wall. He struggles to free his arm when another Elite materializing in front of his eyes with a plasma rifle. His head still was spinning from the force of the blow and he wasn't entirely sure if what he was seeing was real. Yet Dasa still closes his eyes and prepares for the killing blow that does not happen.

Instead the warrior begins to walk towards him, in his white armor he looked more like a vengeful spirit from his peoples folklore. His foot suddenly slams into the side of Dasa's head and knocks the warrior out.

With a satisfied grunt, the Elite gabs Dasa by the nape of his neck and drags him away.


End file.
